by Neil Clarke
“In our world, there are tens of millions who can feel that they are you, Charles, the Man. They couldn’t care less who they really are. Millions have become you, melding completely with you. You endow their meaningless lives with hope. Their ranks will continue to swell because no one can resist the temptation. As we improve and perfect the technology for translating and transmitting neural patterns, millions more—billions—will join the livecasting revolution, and they won’t be able to stop. In the not too distant future, I’m certain we can enable the transmission and reception of more complicated senses and emotions, or even fully formed thoughts. No one can predict how far the technology will ultimately develop, but this is surely the beginning of a true singularity. The traditional life of an individual will be swept away, replaced by a new world we have yet to imagine.”
“But that’s not my ideal. I’ve always wanted everyone to become their true selves, to pursue their own values.”
“No.” Lisa shook her head emphatically. “Even your most devoted fans, deep down, want to become you. Not many of them want to be themselves. This is human nature.”
“All right,” Charles gritted his teeth. “Since everything about me is false, illusory, at least my beliefs are real. I won’t give that up. I will reveal everything you’ve told me to the world.”
He tried to turn on the livecast, but nothing happened.
“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” said Lisa. “We always have more than a dozen people monitoring everything you do. No matter where you are or when, as soon as you even say more than three words that we don’t like, we’ll activate our remote control and make you babble utter nonsense that will get you committed. Have you forgotten how you drove your girlfriend away?”
Charles dropped his face into his hands and collapsed back to the floor. “If you’re so powerful, why not just take over my body and start pulling on the strings? You can then make me say what you want and dance to your tune.”
“We don’t yet have that level of technology. The sensory cortices and the motor cortices are distinct, and the necessary inputs and computations to fully direct your limbs are complicated. It took almost everything we had to make you say those words to Homi just now, and you didn’t sound natural at all.”
“It’s too bad that Homi didn’t notice these subtle differences. Otherwise she would have seen through your plot.”
“Actually, I did.” The voice was clear and crisp, a voice that he never thought he’d hear again.
Charles turned and saw the bright face of Hosokawa Homi.
11.
“Homi!?”
“I’m back.” Homi nodded at the surprised Charles. “I really wanted to storm out and never return, but as a police officer, I’m trained to notice whether someone is speaking in a natural manner or not. I soon realized that something wasn’t right, and returned to confront you—at which point I noticed someone else was here. I’ve been listening for quite some time. Since I don’t have any implants in my brain, there’s not much they can do against me.”
“Charles, you’ve got to make her shut up!” Lisa glanced at Homi and turned back to Charles, her tone turning anxious. “If you don’t want to lose everything you have, you must continue to collaborate with us. You’ll get to keep your fame and riches, and we can discuss reserving some measure of privacy for you—”
“Collaborate?” Charles gritted his teeth so hard that the noise was audible. “Didn’t you just a second ago threaten to send me to the madhouse?”
“Oh come on, Charles, you know perfectly well we’d never do that unless we had no other choice. We worked so hard to create you! We would never harm you if we . . . Look, I’m just trying to persuade you.”
Homi turned to face Lisa. “You must free Charles and extract that devilish implant from his brain. I recorded the conversation between the two of you, and if anything happens to Charles, I will make sure the whole world hears about it. Even though you work for some powerful companies and people, I doubt they’re powerful enough to control the whole world. Public opinion will not be on your side. Imagine the panic when people realize that the implants they got for receiving livecasting could be used to control them—your whole industry would collapse overnight. Ms. Goldstone, you no longer have a hold over Charles.”
Lisa looked from Homi to Charles and gave a helpless smile. “I guess we’re in a stalemate then. If we do as you demand and take the implant out of Charles, we’ll be handing you all the cards. No one is that stupid. But if you do tell the media what we said, I guarantee you Charles will instantly become a babbling idiot. Ms. Hosokawa, I doubt you’d be willing to risk that.”
The three fell silent, but the tension in the air only grew thicker.
“No matter what, you have to stop manipulating Charles,” said Homi after a while, her voice tinged with a conciliatory note.
“Yes,” said Charles, whose voice was infused with pain. “I want you and those you represent to leave me alone, and get as far from me as possible.”
A series of complicated expressions flitted across Lisa’s face before she spoke. “Let me be sure I understand your offer. We’ll stop interfering with you, and you’ll keep everything we talked about today under wraps. Do I have that right?”
Charles nodded. All he wanted now was to wake up from this nightmare. “If you really let us go.”
“But you’ll tumble from your successful perch and lose everything.”
Wearily, Charles shook his head. “I’ve never been successful at all. I’ve just been living a ridiculous fantasy. Now that I understand the truth, I want to end this farce as quickly as possible.”
Lisa looked at Homi, who mutely endorsed Charles’s words. Lisa nodded. “All right, we’ll do as you demand. But remember, whether you turn on the livecasting function or not, we’ll be watching your every move. Don’t think you can play some trick against us. You’re a smart boy, Charles, and you won’t make trouble for us, right?”
Slowly, Charles nodded.
“You better uphold your end of the bargain as well,” said Homi. “I will be storing multiple copies of the recording—if anything happens to us, you bet the whole web is going to be alerted.”
“Goodbye, Charles, my old friend. I hope you don’t regret it.” Lisa turned around and swept by Homi as she left the room. Soon, the pair heard the noise of a small flying car’s engine coming to life outside.
Charles remained curled up on the ground, unable to speak. Homi knelt by him and silently placed a hand against his cheek. Charles stared at her: her gaze was full of concern; her hand felt warm and soft; her scent was elegant, understated.
He knew that he had lost everything, but he had her. From now on, the two of them would live like just any other ordinary couple.
Charles wrapped his arms around Homi and cried like he had never cried before. Homi lightly stroked the back of his head to comfort him. He squeezed his arms about her, so tightly that she had trouble breathing. But it was the only glint of hope in a dark sea of sorrow.
By the time Homi realized that Charles was squeezing her too tight, it was too late.
Somehow, Charles managed to get on top of Homi, and with her body held down by his weight, he locked his hands like a pair of vice about her neck. He was trying to crush her windpipe with almost superhuman strength, and his eyes bulged as his throat made a series of croaking noises, as though it were he, and not she, who was being choked.
“Let . . . go . . . please . . . ” Homi couldn’t even get the words out. She struggled and scratched at Charles’s arms with her nails, but Charles seemed to have become completely immune to pain, his eyes glazed over.
Homi understood that it was the doing of Lisa Goldstone. She couldn’t afford to let them go. Her vision dimmed as her consciousness faded. Life was about to depart from her body, and all that Homi could do was to kick her feet instinctively in a last, desperate struggle for breath—
Abruptly, Charles lowered his head and bit hard into hi
s own wrist. Blood spurted from the wound, and his fingers loosened reflexively. Without thinking, Homi snapped his fingers off her neck and pushed him away. She rolled along the floor and scrambled to get as far away from him as possible.
Charles got up on his unsteady legs, swaying from side to side. Then he tumbled back to the floor, his limbs jerking violently.
“Run away . . . Run!” Charles’s voice, twisted almost beyond recognition, emerged from his bloody mouth. He was struggling mightily against the invisible forces that had possessed his body.
Homi didn’t know what to do. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw the hexagonal black box, and a flash of inspiration seized her. She dashed over to the box, lifted it over her head, and smashed it against the ground with a dull thud. The box rolled a few times on the floor and revealed a large crack in its side. Homi rushed up and gave it a few hard, well-placed kicks. A series of grinding and snapping noises emerged from the box, and smoke rose out of the crack.
Charles was no longer moving. Like a deflated ball, he lay flat and gasped. Homi went over and helped him up. “It’s all right. I destroyed the neutrino converter. They can’t control you any longer.”
“But we can’t leave this cabin either.” Charles’s voice was faint from weakness. “There are neutrino transmitters and converters everywhere.”
At Homi’s insistence, the cabin had contained only a single neutrino converter and the walls were built to shield electromagnetic waves from outside transmitters. But if they left this sanctuary, Lisa and her people would be able to take control of Charles at any moment.
“Then . . . what can we do?”
“Call the media,” said Charles. He closed his eyes in exhaustion. “We have to give a press conference now.”
An hour and a half later, the cabin was overflowing with reporters representing twenty-plus Japanese media outlets and almost as many foreign agencies. Curiosity filled the gazes roaming around the messy room and taking in the wounded Charles and Homi. As the reporters whispered to each other, most of the rumors being passed around involved some romantic dispute.
“Good evening,” said Charles as he got up from the sofa. “I’ve asked you to come tonight because—”
The reporters hung on every word, but Charles had stopped speaking. His eyes were focused on something above and behind the crowd of reporters as his lips fluttered subtly, as though he was speaking to some invisible being.
“Charles!” Homi realized that something was wrong and turned to the reporters. “We are about to tell you something that—”
“—something that is very important,” said Charles. He seemed to have recovered, though his face was even more weary than before. “I’ve decided to join the Plutonian Grand Race next month.”
“What?” Homi was shocked. The Plutonian Grand Race was a gimmick, and a successful aviator like Charles wasn’t expected to participate at all. Just a few days ago, in response to an interview question, Charles had made it clear that he wasn’t interested.
Charles continued. “As everyone knows, this race will take place on the longest course in human history, far surpassing the Circumsolar Grand Race conducted along Earth’s orbit. Although this is the first time the race is being held, it will no doubt be deemed a landmark achievement in racers’ careers one day. I’ve heard that not many racers have signed up, and so I guess if I want to be the champion, this is my best chance.”
A few in the audience guffawed. Homi saw that Charles’s manner seemed quite natural and not under someone else’s control. She held her tongue despite the impulse to interrupt.
Charles looked around the room, and when he spoke again, his tone changed. “But since Pluto is about thirty AU from Earth at the present time, the entire race will take place over the course of two years. Limited by the speed of light and signal decay, I don’t think it’s possible to livecast during this time. I’m sorry.”
A few of the reporters grumbled and protested. Apparently some of them were fans.
“What about Miss Hosokawa?” someone asked. “Are you going to be separated for two years?”
Charles held Homi by the hand and squeezed her palm meaningfully. “I don’t believe two years will prove to be much of a barrier between us. I will carve her name into the million-year ice crust of Pluto.”
“What was that about?” asked Homi. The reporters had all left.
A drained Charles massaged his temples. “One of the reporters was carrying a portable neutrino converter with him, and that allowed them to send a message to me via the visual texting window in my cranial implant.”
“Did they threaten you again?”
Charles shook his head. “Worse. They threatened all of humanity.”
“What?”
Charles recalled that silent conversation:
- Remember, at least a billion people have already had the implant, and their lives are now in your hands. If you insist on telling the truth, we may not be able to control everyone, but we certainly can beam a series of chaotic signals to all implanted subjects within a few minutes. Most will at least suffer temporary psychosis, and some may become deranged permanently. Who knows how many accidents will occur as a result, and maybe a few choice subjects will push the buttons for launching nuclear missiles . . . The world will be turned upside down in a catastrophe that will make a world war seem like child’s play. Earth would be sent back to the Stone Age in a matter of days.
- And so I have no choice but to shut up, is that it? I have to stand by and watch as you continue to push your devilish implant until everyone has become a slave who has lost all sense of self. I should just wait until you control the whole world and are no longer afraid of anything?
- This is the inevitable progress of history. We will either keep on going down this path until we reach a brand new future, or a war will lead to the deaths of hundreds of millions and civilization’s complete collapse. The choice is yours, Charles.
- What choice do I have when you have a billion hostages?
- You did make the right choice, which is why you managed to change your speech to the reporters in time and avert a disaster. The idea of going to Pluto is not bad: this way, we can avoid direct conflict with each other, and you can stop worrying about another plot from us. By the time you return two years from now, you will no longer be the focus of the world’s attention, and you can live as you like.
- And I will finally accomplish something that belongs entirely to me. I will prove that I’m no puppet, but the invincible Charles.
“Charles, what’s wrong?” Homi’s words pulled him back to the present.
“Nothing.” Charles pulled her to him and caressed her long hair. “Everything will be all right. I promise.”
12.
An unprecedented three hundred million people tuned into Charles’s final livecast. Three hundred million pairs of eyes accompanied Charles’s strides into the launch facility and then turned to regard the writhing sea of people as well as the azure sky overhead.
The launch complex was located in Tanegashima, Kagoshima Prefecture, JAXA’s traditional home. Twenty-four spacecraft of different designs were clustered near the center of the complex. Unlike ancient spaceships, however, these new spacecraft no longer needed massive gantries and launch towers. Advancing technology meant that these ships could be launched anywhere from the surface of the Earth, and the choice of departing from here was mainly symbolic.
Though many advances had already been made, manned space exploration was still in its beginning stages. The space race today wasn’t aimed at the moon or Mars, but at Pluto, a celestial body billions of kilometers away whose surface bore no trace of human exploration except a few robotic probes. The entire race would take more than two years.
After the participating spacecraft left Earth, each was supposed to make use of solar sails or planetary gravity assists to accelerate and head for Pluto on its own. Once there, they were supposed to close their solar sails and use the remaining fuel for
the return trip. Though the astronautic principles were simple, the journey, traversing the entire Solar System and measured in tens of billions of kilometers, was breathtakingly bold.
To be the first human being to set foot on Pluto would be a milestone in the history of the exploration of the Solar System. As Pluto was not deemed scientifically as significant as the major planets—of which it was no longer a member in any event—no government bothered to devise manned missions to it after sending a few probes. But as it was such a famous place, many civilian space enthusiasts made it their dream destination. During a span of a few decades, about eight manned spaceships had been launched toward Pluto, but most had to abandon the journey partway through due to the many difficulties encountered. A few were destroyed by micrometeoroids in the asteroid belt, and some vanished in deep space without a trace. The reputation of Pluto as a planet of death grew, and in recent years no more missions to Pluto had been launched. This Grand Race, however, had rekindled the enthusiasm of explorers for the conquest of Pluto.
The addition of Charles Mann to the roster of entrants raised the profile of the race further. Although many complained of not being able to tune into Charles’s livecast for the duration, his steadfast courage moved the hearts of millions. The number of entrants doubled almost overnight to more than twenty, and all were among the ranks of elite aviators and astronauts. The Grand Race was now truly grand.
“Charles!” A familiar voice broke through the background noise of the crowd. He turned to see the approaching figure of his old rival, George Steele.
Charles grinned. “George, I have to thank you for being so willing to play the part of my runner-up every time.”
George rolled his eyes. “Let me tell you something, playboy: you’d better be prepared to congratulate me this time.”
